


Entrance Exam

by junko



Series: 'Tails' of Zabimaru [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of a rather unimpressive entrance exam into Academy, Renji asks a question no one is expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entrance Exam

**Author's Note:**

> My continuing obsession with Renji's backstory made me wonder: what if his entrance exams into Academy WEREN'T what put him into the Elite class? What if Renji's relationship with Zabimaru is as truly unique as it reads in the Manga?
> 
> Also, I must warn any unsuspecting general audience member that there is language, as in swearing. The way I deal with denoting Renji's background without having some kind of Osaka dialect to fall back on as an obvious clue is to make him somewhat crude and rough in English. It's very little though, just a few peppered here and there.
> 
> I must give credit, too, to ananas, who not only always listen to me blather on about Bleach, but actually encourages me and gives me wonderful ideas to play with.

The entrance exams were finally over. Renji was worn out, exhausted on a profoundly deep level, and, worse, he was pretty sure he’d failed. The expressions on the examiners’ faces were hard to read, but, if he had to guess, he’d say they were _wildly_ unimpressed.

 _Well_ , he thought with a sigh _, Rukia always was the more talented one_.

“Any questions for us?” the head examiner’s voice was bored, like this was that final perfunctory question they expected everyone to say ‘no’ to -- a prelude to ‘thanks for your time, we’ll be in touch’ and the echoing slam of the door, closing shut on Renji’s future, separating him and Rukia forever.

“Actually, yeah,” he said. “Who is Zabimaru?”

The examiner blinked away the bored, dazed look from his eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You guys are experts in spiritual energy and all that shit, right? So you can tell me if I’m going crazy.” Renji scratched at the back of his neck, embarrassed, but determined to find out about this demon that had been haunting him. “It’s just that since I spent the night on the Academy grounds, I’ve been hearing this voice, er, _voices_ calling my name.”

Truthfully, it was before that. Since the moment Rukia said they were going to become shinigami, he’d felt it --the pull, the draw, that mystical something that was out there calling for him. Before it was more nebulous, just a sensation that ticked the edges of his consciousness, invaded his dreams. Once he set foot on campus, however, the voices were clear, as though nearer—they’d been making him jump all day, had him checking over his shoulder expecting to see the face of an old friend.

But he’d come to Academy with his only remaining friend. Who else would it be? Who was Zabimaru?

The examiner’s eyes were wide. Renji’d wondered if he’d said too much. What the fuck did he think he was doing anyway? Some petty thief from _Inuzuri_ nattering on about voices in his head! They were going to call the Punishment Squad and have him hauled away. He was going to spend the rest of eternity locked in some dark, dank holding cell, wrapped in a straight jacket, muttering about an imaginary friend.

“Look, never mind,” Renji said with a nervous little laugh. “Forget I said anything. I can find the door. I’ll let myself out.”

“No,” the head examiner’s voice was sharp. “Wait here.”

_Oh shit._

#

When the door finally opened again, Renji looked up. He expected a shinigami, but not a captain -- and certainly not a broadly smiling one wearing a bright pink kimono over his haori. If this guy was with the Punishment Squad, he needed to work on being scarier.

Though he was surprisingly big, at least an inch or two taller than Renji, and there was liquid grace in the way he walked that belied his practiced relaxed, easy lope.

He also carried demons. A pair of them.

Renji stepped back as the captain stepped forward.

Tilting his head curiously, the captain lifted the edge of his straw traveling hat to peer at Renji with kindly gray eyes, “Now, now,” he laughed lightly at Renji’s nervous reaction. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, young man. I’m Captain Shunsui Kyōraku.”

Though it was clear the captain was much more powerful than he wanted people to believe, Kyōraku didn’t scare Renji nearly as much as the pair of swords tucked into the captain’s obi. “Uh-huh, nice to meet you, uh… sir,” Renji said, unable to keep his eyes from the blades or quite stifle the urge to back away, “But who’s she?”

“‘She’?! Ho, ho! You are good.” He patted his obi in the space between the twin blades. “This willful little devil is Katen Kyōkotsu.”

Renji wasn’t quite sure which of them to address his question to, so he spoke to the swords, “Does the most honorable Lady Katen Kyōkotsu know my Zabimaru?”

Kyōraku’s brows knitted together for a moment. He regarded Renji for a long time before nodding. “I think perhaps she does.”

“Can she tell him to leave me alone?”

“No, my poor boy, that she cannot do, nor can anyone else, I’m afraid,” Kyōraku’s laugh was hearty. “However, now that you’re here, perhaps your friend can be patient and await your reunion a little more quietly.”

Renji nodded, though he had the sense that Zabimaru was neither the patient nor quiet type. “So… I’ll get to see him?”

Kyōraku smiled, “It seems so, yes.”

“When?”

“Well,” Kyōraku said with an apologetic little shrug, “Normally, the zanpaktō is awarded at graduation.”

That long? He hadn’t even been officially accepted yet… had he?

“So you’ll have to make sure you graduate, won’t you?” Kyōraku’s voice became suddenly paternal, fatherly. “Your friend will be upset to be kept waiting too long, so you’d best apply yourself and work hard. Don’t disappoint him!”

“No, sir!” Renji agreed automatically.

Kyōraku turned to leave in a swirl of kimono and haori.

“But, sir,” Renji shouted, stopping him at the door. “You keep calling Zabimaru my friend… but he’s… that is, I’m pretty sure he’s a demon.”

“And?” Kyōraku’s hand rested on the door frame, and his eyebrow arched.

“And…” Renji could hear Katen Kyōkotsu’s warning growl. “And… uh, nothing. I mean, I’ll do my best to make him proud.”

“No doubt you will, young man. No doubt you will.”

#

Kyōraku strolled into the office of Gengorō Ōnabara, the Academy’s headmaster, ignoring the shouts of an irritated, overworked secretary, and settled down on the floor with a dramatic sigh.

“Ah, Mr. Gengorō,” he said apologetically. “I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I’m about to completely overstep my authority.”

Ōnabara had his head bent over some paperwork and looked up, startled at the sound of Kyōraku’s voice. “Agh! Captain Kyōraku! What… what are you doing here? Did I…? Do we have an appointment?”

“No, but we need to talk all the same,” Kyōraku said. Glancing around the cramped office, he spotted a tea set on a bookshelf and the only-just-barely-hidden top of a sake jug behind a pile of manuscripts. “Of course, talk is best done over sake, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sake? But, sir, it’s only just after breakfast.”

“So it is!” Kyōraku said with a bright laugh, getting up to fetch bottle and bowls. He settled down opposite the headmaster again and opened the bottle, “An excellent time to drink and discuss my sponsorship of a young Inuzuri boy, who, despite his mediocre entrance scores will be placed in an advanced class.”

“What?” Ōnabara clearly wasn’t following. He scratched the top his balding head, “Who?”

“Renji Abarai, the strapping young lad who just waltzed in your door looking for his zanpaktō.” Kyōraku took a long swallow of the sake. “Or, at least, I assume that’s who he’s talking about; I suppose he _could_ be insane, but the ‘most honorable Lady Katen Kyōkotsu,’ indeed. Oh, she liked that, the vixen!”

Ōnabara blinked in confusion at Kyōraku’s laugh. After a long moment, the head instructor tentatively asked, “Did you say sponsor?”

 _Trust a bureaucrat to hone in on money_ , Kyōraku thought with a sly smile. “Yes, I intend to pick up Mr. Renji’s bill—room, board, uniform, books, tutors if necessary… everything—though I want it to remain strictly anonymous, of course.”

“Of course, that can be easily arranged, but why are you talking to me about this? There are forms—the secretary could have showed you--”

“You should really have a drink,” Kyōraku said, offering a filled bowl. “It’s rude to make me drink alone.”

“Oh! Uh, all right,” Ōnabara took the bowl and a tentative sip.

“You see, I’m asking a favor of you, Mr. Gengorō. I want the boy advanced. His kidō is… well, frankly, it’s pathetic. From what the examiners said, he’d be lucky not to blow the place up it’s so random and uncontrolled. His reistsu is passable, apparently, but he otherwise doesn’t particularly stand out on paper.”

“I can’t do that,” Ōnabara said, setting the bowl down on the table firmly and sharply. “The Academy is strictly merit based. I won’t advance any student who doesn’t deserve it. Otherwise I’d have half the noble houses in the Soul Society buying their heirs and heiresses captaincies.”

“Indeed,” Kyōraku said with a tip of his head in acknowledgement. “The boy does deserve to be in advance classes, however.”

“But, you just said…?”

Kyōraku sighed. Ducking his hat to cover his eyes, he took another long drink. “Yes, yes, it’s all true, sadly. My dear Mr. Renji barely passed all the traditional tests for Academy entrance. But…. Do you remember how a person became a shinigami before Old Man Yama thought up this place, your Academy, with all its rules and regulations and tests and instruction?”

Ōnabara frowned, “Of course. It was a simpler time. The zanpaktō chose the shinigami. It called him or her out. Sometimes over great distances they called and the shinigami came.”

“Exactly!” Kyōraku said jubilantly. “Now you understand why my Mr. Renji must be in the Elite class.”

Ōnabara’s frown deepened. He took a thoughtful drink, and then looked at the bowl as if surprised it was sake and not tea. Shaking his head, he said, “Are you suggesting that this kid of yours some kind of throwback? A _natural_ shinigami?”

Lifting his hat, he peered into Ōnabara’s eyes. “I’m saying that if you took him to the great hall today, he would not only recognize his zanpaktō, but he would also call it by _name_.”

“That’s not possible.”

Kyōraku laughed, “Obviously, it is!”

“It’s hard to believe,” Ōnabara said, shifting his papers around the cluttered desk, as if trying to organize his thoughts the same way. “There hasn’t been a natural shinigami in hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. Even our most prodigal students have had to master their zanpaktō the proscribed way. How do you know this kid’s for real? From Inuzuri, you said? How do you know he’s not just faking it just to get a free pass?”

“Maybe he is,” Kyōraku said with a light shrug. “In that case, he’s a convincing charlatan. He seemed genuinely startled and a bit frightened by Katen Kyōkotsu, whom he instantly recognized not only as living and female, but to whom he also afforded a great deal of respect.”

“He could have heard stories of you, done his homework.”

“That’s certainly possible,” Kyōraku admitted. “But it seems unlikely. I was only called upon today by accident. I happened to be the guest lecturer in the literature class. They were discussing romances, a favorite genre of mine! At any rate, I just happened to be passing in the hall when the examiner was looking for someone to help answer the boy’s question.” With a laugh, Kyōraku added, “Of course the examiner thought my Mr. Renji was having auditory hallucinations from a combination of exhaustion and malnutrition. He’d been hoping to find someone from the Fourth Division, but got me instead!”

“Still, the kid could have studied up on all the captains and their zanpaktō.”

“You seem very willing to paint a boy you haven’t met into quite the cunning con man.”

“Only as much as you seem ready to think he’s some kind of instinctive shinigami.”

“Touché,” Kyōraku said with a tip of his hat.

“Anyway, why wouldn't he be scamming us? Inuzuri is rotten with con artists, blackmailers, and mob bosses. This kid could be their tool.”

“And the yakuza wants into the Academy, why exactly? And, forgive me, Mr. Gengorō, but I can’t see the harm at any rate. If he’s not a natural shinigami and is faking a connection to a non-existent zanpaktō, he will fail out.  As simple as that.  If, by some miracle, he can successfully play this ruse until graduation, we have merely graduated another moderately successful shinigami who will do well enough in the service of the Thirteen Court Guard.”

“And if he’s secretly loyal to some mafia boss?”

“Ha, ha!  Then we’re already on to him, aren’t we?! He won’t last long under our scrutiny and he’ll be expelled, or, if he gets that far, court-martialed.”

Ōnabara squinted long and hard at Kyōraku’s smiling face. “You’ll take responsibility for him?”

“Yes, of course, both financially and otherwise.”

“You really think he’s a natural?”

“I do.”

“All right,” Ōnabara sighed. “I’ll put him in the Elite class, but only provisionally. He’s on probation until he can pass a traditional test or one of his instructors vouches for him.”

“Excellent,” Kyōraku said. Standing up, he picked up the jug of sake. He tucked it over his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t hide such a fine vintage, you know. People are going to think you’re a secret drunk!”

“Uh, er, well.”

With a laugh, Kyōraku waved good-bye and showed himself out.

#

“Some kind of scholarship they said,” Renji explained in a dazed voice as he and Rukia were being shown around the campus with the other new recruits.

“You?”

“I know, right? Seriously, I thought I flunked out, now there’s talk of a special class or something.”

“Shinigami for Dummies?” Rukia laughed a bit cruelly, but her big, purple eyes sparkled fondly.

“Maybe,” Renji agreed, half-seriously. “I mean, shit, I could kind of use it. You should have been there, Rukia, I made the weakest little kidō ball. Then it went all wobbly, and I had to drop it before it blew up in my face. It was embarrassing.”

_Renji._

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything, you big idiot.”

_I’m waiting for you, Renji._

Renji glanced over his shoulder despite knowing no one would be there. Determination stabbed him deep in the gut. He dropped back a little, letting Rukia move ahead with the crowd. Quietly, he whispered, “All right. Just be patient. I’m going to get to you, Zabimaru, even if it fucking kills me.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Entrance Exam](https://archiveofourown.org/works/898272) by [Vorvayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorvayne/pseuds/Vorvayne)




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